


Keep Me From Breaking

by bamby0304



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 23:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamby0304/pseuds/bamby0304
Summary: After getting dumped you need a place to stay, so you call your two best friends. Sam and Dean are there for you, like always. With a broken heart, and a heavy supply of alcohol, you let the brothers take care of you, knowing they won’t let you break.





	Keep Me From Breaking

**_Warning_ : Angst. Self-doubt. Self-esteem issues. Body image issues. Then a little bit of fluff from two caring Winchesters.**

**Bamby**

It was late. You had no idea how late it was. You had lost track of time hours ago. All you knew was that you’d started crying when the sun was up… and now it was pitch-black outside.

Sitting in your car, parked outside a gas station, you looked down at your phone, contemplating whether or not you should actually ask for help. You needed help… but you hated asking for it. You hated getting in the way. You hated being a burden.

Scrolling through your contacts, you passed several numbers you knew you could call. There were plenty of people who would drop everything for you, but that didn’t make it any easier for you. Each name you saw, you could picture how busy their lives were. You could see the pity they’d look at you with as they stopped what they were doing in order to help you.

That made it so much worse. Not knowing if they were helping you out of the kindness of their hearts… or out of pity. Would they do it if you weren’t such a mess? Did your tears make any difference? Did your pain play on their heart strings?

It was when you were reaching the end of your contacts lists that you realised you couldn’t stall any longer. You had no money for a room or even food, your phone was going to die eventually, you couldn’t stay parked outside this lone gas station for ever. You had to call someone.

So, with a deep breath, you called the first number you saw. They answered on the third ring.

“ _Y/N?_ ”

“Hey,” you sniffled into the phone, trying to keep yourself together. “Sorry to call, I know you’re probably busy-”

He cut you off, “ _No, no, it’s fine. Never apologise for calling_.” The way he was talking, you could tell he knew you were upset, but he also knew better than to ask. “ _What’s up?_ ”

“I was, um… I was wondering if I could crash at your place for a few days? It won’t be for long, I swear. I just… I have-” Your voice broke a little. “I have nowhere else to go. Jody’s place is crazy full with the girls, and Donna is on a case, and-”

Once more, he cut you off, “ _Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. You’re always welcome here_ ,” he assured you. “ _Do you need us to come pick you up?_ ”

“No.” Shaking your head, you wiped the tears from your cheeks. “No, that’s okay. I’ll… I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“ _We’ll be here_.” There was so much understanding in his voice it broke your heart a little more.

The fact he was so willing to help you had a small smile spreading on your lips. “Thanks, Sam.”

* * *

Closing the door to your car, you tugged on your jacket, pulling it closer as you started for the bunker door. You hadn’t stopped sniffling since hanging up on Sam. You were actually surprised you hadn’t cried all the way here. You thought for sure you would have crumbled by now.

Reaching the door, you froze, hand raised and ready to knock.

Did you really want to do this? Did you want to come here and throw all your drama on two of your best friends? Did you want to be around a bunch of guys you had hardly seen in months when you’re this emotional? Did you really think it would be fair to do this to them?

But before you could answer, your body moved on its own, knocking on the hard and heavy metal door that led into the old Men of Letters bunker the Winchester brothers lived in.

After three knocks on the door, your fist pulled back. It was then that you really started to panic and doubt your decision. You should have just crashed in your car. You should have called someone else. You should have tried your luck at a bar. You should have gone _anywhere_ but here.

_Why are you doing this?_

On the verge of hyperventilating, your eyes beginning to brim with tears yet again, you turned to leave. But you only managed to take two steps before the door opened behind you.

“Y/N?”

At the sound of Sam’s voice, you finally broke.

Your body shook as you cried, tears pouring down your face. Your sobs broke in your chest, your throat tightening to that uncomfortably painful point that only ever happened when you cried as uncontrollably as you were right then. Your face was stuffy, your head cloudy, and you could do nothing to stop what was happening to you.

There were a few short seconds that passed before you felt strong but gentle hands grab and turn you. Then, without another word, Sam pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you. He just stood there as you cried against him, letting everything out into the shirt of one of your best friends.

Sam’s hugs were always sure, always understanding. He held you carefully, gently, as if he didn’t want to break you anymore than you already were. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close enough so you knew he was there, but lose enough so you didn’t feel smothered. It was his way of reassuring you that you weren’t alone, and that he was there for you.

You both stood there for a few moments, neither of you speaking as you soaked Sam’s shirt with your tears. He didn’t move an inch. He just stood there, letting you use him for the support he was offering.

When you were calm enough that you could see properly once more, your tears subdued for now, you pulled away. Wiping at your cheeks, using the sleeve of your jacket to clear your face, you looked up at Sam with sad but thankful eyes.

He smiled lightly. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” Wrapping an arm around you once more, he led you into the bunker.

Step by step, you followed Sam. You were too emotional to move on your own. You were sure, if it wasn’t for Sam, you would crumble on the ground into a heap of tears and broken pieces. Your brain was too muddled to think for itself, therefore you were too lost to move by yourself.

Leading you down some stairs and through another door, Sam brought you into the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you’ve here so the fancy interior wasn’t a shock, and to be honest, even if it had been your first time, you were too upset to care.

Arm still wrapped around you, Sam guided you to another set of stairs. He stayed by your side, taking his time as the two of you walked down into the war room of the bunker. He didn’t hurry you, he didn’t push you, he didn’t let his long legs hasten your pace. He just stayed by your side, offering that comfort and support he was known for.

Moving towards he library, taking the few steps up that led into the warm lit and welcoming room, your eyes landed on Dean as he sat at one of the tables.

You froze on the spot, sniffling and trembling, still very close to breaking.

Eyes meeting, there was barely a second where the two of you simply looked at each other. Barely a second where he took in the state you were in. Barely a second where he read your body language. Barely a second before he was up on his feet and striding towards you.

Sam stepped back a little as the older Winchester came to stand in front of you, his arms wrapping around your form as he held you in a tight embrace.

Dean didn’t pull you to him like Sam did. He came to you. There was strength in his hugs, arms wrapped around you tightly. His hugs were protective, comforting. He held you together, keeping you from crumbling. Holding you to his chest as if he could take the pain away from you and bare it himself. Cheek resting against your hair, he always pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your head.

Neither of you pulled back. Neither of you spoke. Dean just stood there, holding you to him. He would stay like that for as long as you needed. Dean would do anything for you.

When the warmth of his hug had seeped in enough to lessen your pain, you gently pried yourself from his arms. Eyes dropping to the ground. There were no more tears.

“Alcohol?” Dean suggested, knowing you well enough to know the answer, but also knowing you needed the sound of someone talking to break through the silence.

You nodded.

Anticipating your arrival and the state you’d be in from your phone call, the brothers had already set some of their finest whiskey onto the table Dean had been sitting at, along with three glasses. You let them lead you over to one of the chairs before you all took a seat each, Dean reaching over to pour drinks for everyone.

They watched and waited, sipping on their own glasses as you downed yours swiftly, needing to feel the burn in your throat to lessen the tightness from your crying. Needing to feel the buzz that was sure to follow.

Once you set the glass back on the table, Dean reached over to pour you another drink as Sam took the chance to speak up.

“You wanna talk about it?”

No. You didn’t. You didn’t really want to talk at all. You just wanted to sit with your friends and drink. You wanted to drown in their comfort and warmth. You wanted them to get on with whatever they’d been doing before you’d interrupted their night, so you could use it as a distraction. You wanted to empty glass after glass in an effort to find a numbness you so desperately needed in that moment.

But, you couldn’t do that to Sam and Dean. You couldn’t throw your dramas and tears their way without offering some kind of explanation.

“He… he dumped me.”

His name didn’t need to be uttered. You all knew who you were talking about…

“After eight months… he just ended it. We finished a case, were heading out of town. We stopped at the gas station to grab something to eat. At least that’s what he said we were doing. Instead we were going there to meet… _her_.”

Dean’s jaw tensed, Sam’s eyes softening. You went on.

“He explained everything to me. Told me how he’s been talking to another hunter. Told me how they’ve met up a couple of times… how he cheated on me with her.” You grabbed your glass, taking a quick drink before setting it on the table again. “I asked him why…”

When you stayed silent a moment too long, Sam gently pressed for more. “What did he say?”

Oh, he had said a lot. But at the same time… he had hardly said anything at all. It was the pauses that spoke millions. It was the way his eyes had spoken words his mouth couldn’t admit. It was the way his body shifted, telling you exactly how badly he wanted to be anywhere but with you.

The second he had left your brain had betrayed you. The second he left and your heart began to break, that’s when your brain went into over drive.

You thought over every second, every conversation, every touch, every moment the two of you had ever shared.

You recalled how he’d been pulling away more and more over time. You recalled how he stopped calling you the cute nickname he’d given you early in the relationship. You recalled how he’d wanted to take longer breaks between cases. You recalled how he started to drink and sleep more, and touch you less. You recalled how the simpler, sweeter parts of your relationship faded. You recalled how he disagreed and argued with you more often than not.

Then, to make things worse, you questioned not only the moments, but his motives.

Why would he pull away? How could he fall out of love? What made him do it? Where did it all go wrong? When did it all start to fall apart? Who is really to blame here…?

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes again. “It has to be. What else could it be? I mean, I’m a mess. A mental and emotional mess. And I’m only getting worse.”

Sam shook his head. “Y/N-”

You cut him off before he could offer any comfort, “No. Okay? I know it’s me. I know it is.” You looked down at yourself. “How could someone love this? I’ve lost track of how many scars I have. I’m covered in stretch marks. I’m not perky like _she_ is. I’m not slim and perfect and pretty. My hair is frizzy and dry half the time. I have bags under my eyes. My hands are rough. Who wants to be with a chick who has man hands?”

“You don’t have man hands,” Dean assured you.

“Really? Look at them.” You lifted them up to show him as if that would prove your point.

He cracked a small smile. “They’re the girliest hands I’ve ever seen.”

You frowned, not understanding how he couldn’t see it. “Are you blind?”

“Y/N, you’re a hunter,” Sam started. “You work with your hands. All the time. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have rough hands. We all do,” he noted.

Huffing, you leaned back in your chair, eyes falling to your glass. “Still doesn’t excuse everything else. He left me for someone prettier and younger because I’m ugly.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re not ugly.”

“Then why did he leave me?”

“Because he’s an asshole,” Dean answered simply as he set his glass down on the table and leaned forward, eyes on you. “Y/N, be honest. Did you really think it would have worked out?”

“Yes.” You gave a short nod. “Of course I did. Why else would I stay with him?”

“Because you’re afraid of being alone.”

You jumped at Sam’s blunt words.

Silence. Time passed by but none of you spoke. You all just sat their drinking away, the brothers watching you here and there.

Drink after drink. Sip after sip. Minute after minute.

Eventually the brothers got to talk amongst themselves. You joined in to the conversation every now and then, but each time you fell silent your mind would follow the broken pieces of your heart and wallow. It would remind you of your heartache and misery.

Hours went by, the bottle on the table now empty, the bottle that had followed coming close to finishing as well.

You were buzzed, words slurring, pain numbed to that blissful hum that came from drinking so much. You felt strong enough to not only take on the world, but also strong enough to squelch the ache you’d arrived with.

“Okay, I’m off.” Sam pushed himself up to his feet, looking down at you. “I set a room up for you to sleep in. Stay as long as you want. And if you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask.” He leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks, Sammy.” You smiled up at him.

Dean chuckled lightly. “I got her. You go to bed,” he told his brother.

Sam nodded as he walked off, trusting his brother will get you to bed safely.

“More!” You cheered, reaching for the bottle of whiskey

But before you could grab it, Dean’s swooped in and stole the bottle from the table. Getting up, he moved over to the liquor cabinet, putting the bottle away.

“Nope. No more for you,” he said as he turned and headed back to the table, walking over to you.

You pouted. “ _Please_.”

“No,” he chuckled again, coming to stand by your chair. “Come on.”

Effortlessly, he lifted you into his arms and held you to his chest. He carried you like that through the bunker. You didn’t pay much mind to where you were going though. All your focus was on Dean and the way he felt, the way he smelt.

Nuzzling into his neck, you hummed. “Always take care of me Dean. I like that.” You smiled. “You’re so sweet. So warm. Smell so good, too.”

You felt the rumble of his chest as he laughed lowly. “You are going to have one hell of a hangover.”

Reaching the room, Dean carefully opened the door while still holding you to his chest. He flicked on the light and stepped inside, walking you over to the bed. When he set you down on it you hummed again, melting into the memory foam and rolling over to sniff the sheets.

“Smells like Winchester.” You smiled once more, curling against the blankets in an effort to meld in with the scent.

“Okay.” Grabbing the blanket at the end of the bed, Dean pulled it up and draped it over you. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

The soft press of his lips against your skin had you roll over to look up at him, smile fading as your pain seeped through the numbness just enough to remind you of everything.

“You really think I’m not ugly?”

“I really think you’re not ugly,” he assured you, soft eyes looking into your sad and pained ones.

“Lay with me?” You had meant to simply ask him, but ended up pleading. “Just for a while. Just until I fall asleep. Please?”

He hesitated. Of course he hesitated.

If you hadn’t had so much to drink you’d realise the full extent to what you were asking him to do. You were asking Dean Winchester, one of your closest friends, to join you in bed not even twenty-four hours after being dumped. You were vulnerable, emotional, and drunk.

Yet, still, he nodded. As he kicked off his boots you shifted to give him some space. He didn’t slip under the blanket, but instead rested above it. He settled himself next to you, getting comfortable on your bed.

Moving a little closer, still not fully aware of your actions, you looked up at him with eyes that were still pleading. “Hold me?”

This time, he wasn’t going to agree so easily. “Y/N…”

“Please, Dean. Just hold me. I need…” You faltered, finding it hard to say the next words. The pain was growing again. Cracking your bones and clotting your veins like a disease. “I need one of your hugs. They keep me from breaking.”

Watching you, seeing the pain growing in your eyes and understanding your reasons, Dean gave in.

You both rolled over until your back was pressed to his chest, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you to him. His hold was tight, reassuring, comforting, and everything you needed.

A few stray tears slipped out of your eyes, the last of your pain fading for the night as you fell asleep in the embrace of someone you knew loved you, someone who you could rely on, and someone who would be there when you broke all over again tomorrow.

**Bamby**


End file.
